Davin Jusik
TIE Bomber LT- DREX
Coruscant: Lower levels
Beneath the bright lights of the upper levels Coruscant, the center of galactic civilization, and the jewel of the core was the same as any other Cityworld. A mixture of blue collar workers, criminals, and folk who liked to avoid prying eyes. Those who made the planet hum behind the scenes. The farther down you got the less anyone cared about your baggage. Baggage that might see you thrown in a cell or put against a wall above.
Max had recently left the Remnant for the reformed Sith Empire, leaving a sinking ship for what looked to be a starship about to leap to lightspeed. After his unit had been killed in a shuttle crash he'd lost any real sense of loyalty to command, and the other Empire seemed to be making real progress in establishing order again. After several rounds of debriefing and conformation on his service history Max had been accepted as a lost son. A loyal soldier who's only fault had been loyalty to his brothers and sisters. Who'd just so happened to gain a very valuable skillset during his time away.
Things were going well. Better than they'd been in a long time.
He ignored a beggar as he took a drag on his cigarette.
The Agent was strolling in around the slums in an outfit generally worn by spacers and the like. Casually walking toward a little hole in the wall cantina where a Naval Officer who'd decided that their loyalties didn't lie with the Empire was supposed to meet a contact.
They'd chosen poorly.
Apparently the fellow"s co conspirator had put up a suprising amount of resistance before giving them up, according to the file at least. A small weight sat in his pocket.
Max tossed the cigarette as he entered the cantina beyond the hovels some called home.
Beneath the bright lights of the upper levels Coruscant, the center of galactic civilization, and the jewel of the core was the same as any other Cityworld. A mixture of blue collar workers, criminals, and folk who liked to avoid prying eyes. Those who made the planet hum behind the scenes. The farther down you got the less anyone cared about your baggage. Baggage that might see you thrown in a cell or put against a wall above.
Max had recently left the Remnant for the reformed Sith Empire, leaving a sinking ship for what looked to be a starship about to leap to lightspeed. After his unit had been killed in a shuttle crash he'd lost any real sense of loyalty to command, and the other Empire seemed to be making real progress in establishing order again. After several rounds of debriefing and conformation on his service history Max had been accepted as a lost son. A loyal soldier who's only fault had been loyalty to his brothers and sisters. Who'd just so happened to gain a very valuable skillset during his time away.
Things were going well. Better than they'd been in a long time.
He ignored a beggar as he took a drag on his cigarette.
The Agent was strolling in around the slums in an outfit generally worn by spacers and the like. Casually walking toward a little hole in the wall cantina where a Naval Officer who'd decided that their loyalties didn't lie with the Empire was supposed to meet a contact.
They'd chosen poorly.
Apparently the fellow"s co conspirator had put up a suprising amount of resistance before giving them up, according to the file at least. A small weight sat in his pocket.
Max tossed the cigarette as he entered the cantina beyond the hovels some called home.